


Welcome To The New World

by vaguelynormal



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, JYJ (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 06:49:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14711163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaguelynormal/pseuds/vaguelynormal
Summary: It figures that even after the end of the world, Yoochun’s still stuck in a shitty job at some seedy little bar.





	Welcome To The New World

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT: This is actually a friend from vaguelynormal posting these. He let me use his ao3 account to transfer his fics from other pages to here, so they wouldnt get lost, since i couldnt convince him to do it himself lol. So yeah! 
> 
> Originally created on June 25 of 2011

Yoochun tries not to shake as he slips his shirt off over his shoulder. It figures that even after the end of the world, Yoochun’s still stuck in a shitty job at some seedy little bar. He tries to imagine music, as it used to be and not the horrible static that resounds from the makeshift speaker system they’ve hooked up in the darkened club. The lyrics are too garbled to be familiar but their voices sound too much like hollow ghosts to Yoochun. He counts instead; each second until it’s his cue to walk off stage. He keeps his eyes closed but he can hear the men panting, a few grope as he slides his jeans lower. 

In the dressing room, Yoochun changes back into his jeans, pulling various tips from his pockets. There’s not enough for him to live off, but someone found him charming enough to give him a small switchblade. He pockets it for himself, leaving the rest of the items in the dressing room, making his way to the manager’s office. A couple of favours and the man will give him something to eat and let him stay a little longer.

 

It’s a slow night as Yoochun works the bar, ferrying drinks to the men at tables. They don’t wear suits anymore but they lay their guns on the table and Yoochun wishes he was fast enough to sneak one away. It’d make a small fortune in supplies and Yoochun might finally get some warmer clothes. His fingers itch to take a gun, particularly after a man squeezes his ass. He grits his teeth and smiles nicely when he’s offered a cigarette, slipping it behind his ear before sneaking out the door to smoke it. There’s a cat in the alley outside and Yoochun wanders over. It comes when he clicks his fingers and he pats it’s smooth fur until it darts off across the upturned remains of a road.

Yoochun has half the mind to go after it, lighting his cigarette he takes two steps forward when the ground twists up underneath him. He feels the impact before he registers the sound of the explosion; his small body hurtled across the dirt with chunks of bitumen and flaming debris.

 

Changmin picks the half naked man up out of the rubble. He dusts him off gently, taking a coat from one of his men and wrapping it over the small man’s shoulders.

‘What’s your name?’ he asks, voice gruffer than intended.

‘Yoochun,’ he blinks, eyes dark with makeup.

‘Come with me,’ Changmin holds out a hand, ‘I’ll take you to your saviour.’

 

Yoochun thinks it’s easy enough to see why everyone respected Jaejoong. The man was thoughtful, merciful and controlled almost all the remaining food and clean water supplies for at least the next two hundred kilometres east if the sporadic radio broadcasts were to be believed. 

‘We found a survivor on our mission,’ Changmin’s hand shoves the small of Yoochun’s back, pushing him to stand in front of the man on the makeshift throne. ‘He said his name is Yoochun.’

‘H-Hello,’ Yoochun does his best to look appealing, but he hasn’t bathed in days and all the soot and ash doesn’t really add to his appearance.

‘Yoochun,’ Jaejoong says the name softly, like he’s testing it out, ‘I’m sorry you got caught up in that.’ He leans forward in his seat, eyes boring into Yoochun’s,’ You understand why we had to do it? There’s no room for places like that in the new world. Stay here and you’ll be provided with everything you need to start over,’ Jaejoong promises.

Yoochun nods slowly, taking in his surroundings before saying, ‘I lost my cigarette.’

Yoochun knows the game. Changmin and his crews scavenge, hauling in whatever they can make use of or trade for something better whilst Jaejoong charmed his subjects and doled out the goods. It’s a little bit disgusting to watch people clamour at Jaejoong’s feet, begging him for goods that he hands out like a merciful god. Yoochun keeps his face carefully blank as they file in, prostrating themselves in Jaejoong’s makeshift temple for the saved.

He finally unclenches his teeth when Changmin leans in and whispers in his ear, ‘Welcome to the new world.’

Yoochun bites back a bitter laugh.

He’s given a place in Jaejoong’s counsel and it doesn’t take much for Yoochun to worm his way into Jaejoong’s bed. Jaejoong falls easily enough for his batted lashes and shy affections, still a little too thin to be healthy but fragile in the way men always seem to want to protect or break. Yoochun hides a smile when Jaejoong allows him to stay in his room, claiming night terrors. He’d writhed a few times against Jaejoong in the pretence of settling in, moving in close enough to see the faint dips and scars of bad skin now cleared and it reminds Yoochun that Jaejoong’s not as holy as he’d like to pretend. He’s done it enough times to no longer be shy about sex but he puts on his best coy look, taking shy glances at Jaejoong’s plump lips and then back up to the man’s eyes.

He has to ask Jaejoong to kiss him but after that it works like clockwork, Jaejoong pushing into him gently. Yoochun almost laughs when Jaejoong produces condoms and lubricant, because even when there are no hospitals or free clinics around and the world has fucking ended, Jaejoong doesn’t want to catch an STD. He sighs instead, allowing his body to be spread out on the soft sheets, curling his toes as Jaejoong takes him.

The next morning there’s a pack of cigarettes beside his bed and Yoochun grins. He lights up, taking a stroll through the stronghold. He doesn’t bother to cover the bite marks on his shoulders, leaving the new crisp shirt he’s been given unbuttoned. Jaejoong smiles at him when he walks into the throne room and he waves back excitedly, ignoring the glare Changmin shoots him. 

He’s unsurprised when Changmin seeks him out later on the roof where he’s almost finished his pack.

‘You shouldn’t waste those,’ Changmin scolds.

‘Why? Who do I have to blow around here to get more?’ Yoochun dangles his feet over the side of the building and tempts Changmin to push him straight off, over the edge.

Changmin just laughs, a rich sound that cuts through the silence of the dead world around them, ‘That’d be me,’ his mouth twists into a lopsided grin as he leans against the railing.

Yoochun turns, looking the man up and down before letting out a laugh of his own, ‘Well then, it’s a pleasure to be doing business with you, sir.’

Yoochun drops to his knees.

 

Yoochun’s been around long enough to know how to look after himself. He’s in it for his survival and unapologetic. Grace and beauty don’t come easily to him, but he considers himself a damn good businessman. Changmin’s a lot rougher than Jaejoong; he pulls hair, thrusts deep and fast and has Yoochun clawing his nails hard into the man’s back. Changmin never leaves a mark though and Yoochun thinks of the lies he’d have to tell if Changmin ever did.

Jaejoong is soft and sweet. He whispers idealistic promises and words of praise into Yoochun’s ears at night. Yoochun doesn’t love anymore, but he’s always liked the feeling of being loved. Jaejoong provides him with everything he needs: he’s not extravagant- there’s no elegant clothes made of silk or feasts of succulent meat but it’s more than he’s ever had before. He enjoys the relationship; in so far as he gets what he wants with minimum struggle- he’s spent far too many years of his life slaving for a tiny paycheque. It’s nice to live easy for once, especially now that his miniscule bank account has been blown out of the water along with his national bank. Jaejoong is safe and kind- the god of the new world- and everything Yoochun thinks he should love, but it’s Changmin he goes to when he’s bored.

Changmin spoils him in a way that makes it clear he values the sex as more than just a trade-off for a chocolate bar and a permanent supply of cigarettes. Where Jaejoong offers tender words and kisses, Changmin claims every inch of his skin until Yoochun begs for him to fuck him. It’s raw and rough, Changmin thrusting in with nothing but spit for lubricant and Yoochun knows it’s not because he doesn’t have the resources. Changmin calls him a slut and Yoochun can’t help but agree, clinging tighter as Changmin takes him against a wall. Yoochun lets Changmin be rough with him because he understands man is young- only just beginning to grow into himself and full of nervous affection he doesn’t know how to express. He lacks Jaejoong’s knack for drawn out, gentle sex but he always kisses Yoochun with fierce passion, eyes blazing with intensity as he uses harsh words instead of the warm emotion Yoochun knows is trapped under his tongue.

Yunho glares as Yoochun takes his seat at the counsel and Yoochun swallows that tiny speck of guilt that twists in the acid of his stomach. He’s hoping the smell of smoke will cover the trace of sex on him but he knows it’s too late. The scarlet letter is already pinned to his lapel and everyone but the new god can see it. Jaejoong smiles at him as he sips at a glass of water, trying to wash away the traces of shame he’s not used to feeling. Yoochun worries someone will tell his saviour the game Yoochun’s playing. He doesn’t want to slip, he doesn’t want to lose it all and he knows that if Jaejoong falls he will too.

Jaejoong holds his hand as they walk through the gardens Jaejoong is building. He points out his next great idea to Yoochun, hands gesturing at banks of barren land where he insists they’ll make crops grow. Changmin follows them as their guard but he eyes their joined hands with distaste. Yoochun finds it funny how Jaejoong is oblivious to the anger and ambition that’s beginning to unfurl and ignite in Changmin. Jaejoong continues to chatter excitedly about new soil but Yoochun tunes out, glancing over to see Changmin with his hand on his gun, fingers twitching when Jaejoong kisses him. Yoochun just smiles, walking off to admire the weeds that spring up from the hard ground, trying so desperately and stubbornly to hold on. He rips one out, blowing the seeds into the wind, feeling everyone’s eyes on him and he turns, watching the seeds catch in the air and disappear.

 

‘He will not hate you if you leave him,’ Changmin hisses, yanking Yoochun behind a wall.

‘I know,’ Yoochun twists his arm free, walking quickly into the main hall, thin moonlight illuminating the path.

‘Then what do you want?’ Changmin seethes, moving quickly into step beside Yoochun, ‘What could I offer you to stay with me?’

‘Nothing,’ Yoochun says simply, pausing to look Changmin in the eyes, ‘You’re not the saviour, Changmin – you’re never going to be god of the new world.’

Yoochun turns to walks away when Changmin grabs at his shoulders roughly, ‘You don’t believe in that bullshit, I know you don’t.’

‘But everyone else does,’ Yoochun slips free and disappears into a corridor, leaving Changmin alone by the empty throne.

Jaejoong’s empire expands rapidly, and whilst Yoochun can see the cracks in the foundation, the great leader remains oblivious. Jaejoong’s vision is dangerous, far too idealistic and foolish to work but it allows people to be blinded by hope. Yoochun knows personally that hope crumbles far too quickly. The crews come back with less and less but Jaejoong assures the masses it’s merely a dry patch- that he has greater plans through which they’ll flourish. It only takes a few cut backs on the rations for the people to panic. Fear spreads quicker than disease and the people spill out into the next town, searching for something better, turning away from Jaejoong’s dream for the new world. 

Yoochun soothes and coos, rubbing the man’s back. He’s in this for the long haul and would rather go down in flames before losing his security in Jaejoong’s power. He plots and encourages, softly so as not to disrupt the balance and perhaps not as quickly as they left, but the followers return. Yoochun knows it’s too late, there’s a seed planted amongst the masses- a small doubt of Jaejoong’s abilities and it’s something they’ll never repair- it’s only temporary but for now, everyone just wants to be saved. Yoochun thinks he does too.

 

An uprising is coming. They whisper in the streets as Yoochun walks past- they call him the king’s whore but he doesn’t mind. He watches out the corner of his eye as the people stare at him, huddled together and he thinks they’re planning something with the amount of carts he sees being moved all over the city from his bedroom window. Yoochun’s draped in the finest silks Jaejoong’s men could find back at the temple. His cloak used to be decadent cloths stolen from the church altars and Yoochun holds his head high, eyes rimmed with kohl as he walks through the beginnings of a citadel. When he sees Changmin slipping out a door in a dim alley a year later, Yoochun knows it’s all over.

 

Changmin finds him days later, pressing him up against library shelves. He kisses Yoochun hard, all teeth and tongue and he wraps his legs around Changmin’s waist to lessen the pressure on his shoulders, moaning when the man’s tongue forces its way into his mouth. 

He’s hard, but not distracted enough to not notice Changmin ripping the red silk of his top, ‘You fucker, do you know how hard it was to get this?’

‘I can imagine you were quite sore by the time you finished servicing them all,’ Changmin chuckles, picking at the brocade on his jacket, mouth upturned in a sneer. ‘Jaejoong doesn’t like all this shit.’

‘Jaejoong doesn’t get to decide what I wear,’ Yoochun hisses, elbowing the man in the chest until he’s dropped unceremoniously to the floor.

He wants to cry, because these are the nicest clothes he’s ever worn and he knows everyone thinks he’s a fucking joke. He keeps his head lowered, hair covering his face as Changmin steps in front of him, boots crushing the delicate fabric of his coat.

‘You don’t need this anyway,’ Changmin crouches, yanking the coat off his body, ‘I always thought you looked prettier without clothes.’

His voice is soft even as he roughly pulls the clothes from Yoochun’s body and Yoochun doesn’t lift a finger in protest, doesn’t make a sound. He keeps himself loose like the ragged, decorative and broken doll he is, the reality he can’t disguise from himself or anyone else with elaborate clothes. Changmin holds him down by the shoulders anyway, though the most Yoochun responds is to claw his nails down Changmin’s biceps as he comes, hips arching off the floor as he’s filled in turn.

Changmin dresses brusquely, straightening his clothes afterwards, ‘It’s ending soon.’

‘So?’ Yoochun says quietly, still lying in a tangle on the floor.

‘So you should wait in the bell tower, where it’s safe in three days time,’ Changmin says gently, brushing the hair from where it’s stuck to Yoochun’s cheek with tears. ‘I’ll come get you- I’ll make you a queen, not just some whore,’ he promises.

‘Whose to say I won’t tell Jaejoong?’ Yoochun asks, ‘He’ll believe me, you know. He loves me.’

Changmin scoffs, ‘Because you look out for your best interests and Jaejoong loves too many people, it’s not valuable anymore, not when you have to share.’ 

Changmin plays with Yoochun’s hair a little longer, running fingertips through the strands, ‘You won’t win,’ Yoochun finally says, barely a whisper.

‘I know,’ Changmin stands, ‘No one wins a war anyway, but we all love the sacrificial lamb cut down for the slaughter. It makes it easier for the rest of us to breathe- not worrying about being so fucking pure all the time.’

Changmin kisses his forehead before he leaves and Yoochun remains as he is on his back, on the floor of the library tangled in embroidered church silk and blood and cum sliding down his thighs. Bruises paint his skin and the floor is cold but Yoochun can’t find the strength in him to move, staring at the painted ceiling even as attendants fuss around him. Jaejoong weeps over his body, drawing his limp form close but Yoochun has no more tears to shed, remaining impassive as he’s cleaned and laid out on the bed.

He stays in bed for the duration of three days and even though Jaejoong clings and comforts him, Yoochun knows the man does not want him anymore. Stripped of all power, bar sentimental attachment, he cleans himself and dresses in black for the funeral he knows is coming. He passes Yunho on his way to the tower and wonders if the man who glares at him so harshly loves Jaejoong enough to stand beside him as the ship goes down. Yoochun almost feels like apologising but he says nothing as he climbs the narrow stairs. 

There is no joy to be felt as Yoochun watches the first building to go up in flames finally crumble. There are only a few bodies on the streets but Yoochun does not want to see the ones lying in the temple. He waits and wonders what his body would sound like when it hits the ground, if his limbs would bend the right way, an angel lying in the dust or if he’d be deformed, a shallow echo of the beauty Changmin claims he has. Yoochun decides after most of the flames have died down that he’s grown tired of waiting and he slips out from the tower.

He walks the streets barefoot, black cloth billowing out behind him, taking in the ashen debris in the air. The city is vacant, chalk outlines of man’s greatest achievements and skeletons of cars that had long ceased working. Too much of the land is burned and Yoochun thinks the fire must have escaped their control; half an orchard lies dying. A black cat slinks around a corner and Yoochun follows, ignoring the way his feet burn over lingering embers. It darts into a cherry tree orchard and Yoochun stops to gather the fruit, letting the blood red juices flow over his chin and fingertips as the taste floods his mouth. It feels like it’s the first morsel he’s eaten for months- so rich with flavour and life and he groans, spitting out the seeds. 

He spies the cat out of the corner of his eyes and sets after it once more, holding the cloth of his shirt in folds so as to carry fruit with him. He plucks them as he walks through the narrow aisle, eyes on the cat as it slinks around the trunks of trees, rubbing its flank against the bark and purring. It cares not for the destruction surrounding them, taking its pleasure in the feel of rough bark dragging through its fur. Yoochun finds its behaviour curious and his eyes map the path out of the trees. Yoochun is still following the feline when he realises he’s standing outside the temple. Brushing the hair from his cheek with his cherry stained hand, he begins the climb up the stone steps.

Changmin sits on the throne, chin resting on his hand. Jaejoong is collapsed on the steps below, head in his hands as he mumbles in disbelief and hurt, tears sliding down his cheeks. Few men sit beside him but Yoochun notes that Yunho is among them, solemn and kneeling. Changmin’s men make a path when he draws nearer to the throne and he stops, standing beside Jaejoong, hands still holding the black cloth of his clothes taut to cup the ripe fruit. Changmin nods in acknowledgement, beckoning Yoochun forward but Yoochun remains where he stands, watching Jaejoong as the man cries with shock, for the loss of his dreams and at the betrayal.

The black cat appears, twisting its way around Yoochun’s ankles, dashing over feet that are black with the ash of yet another lost world. Jaejoong’s tears pool on the marble floor and Yoochun steps on them, watching the soot mix with the water and blossom out. The old king looks up at Yoochun, eyes wide and he crouches gently, releasing the cloth and letting the cherries fall before the man in offering. Yoochun draws a hand from his pocket; he presses his switchblade into Yunho’s hand, folding the man’s long fingers over the cheap bone handle. He stands, smoothing the folds of cloth before finally turning toward Changmin, taking graceful steps to stand beside the throne.

Changmin reaches for his hand, kissing the knuckles of his queen before laughing. He turns to Jaejoong, spreading his arms wide as he says, ‘Welcome to the new world, Jaejoong. Ain’t it fucking grand?’


End file.
